Where is David?

You pat your pockets instinctively before remembering your phone is still on the counter where you left it after booking the tattoo appointment. "We should probably check if David's messaged about when he's coming home," you say, reaching for it. "I should probably get dressed before he arrives."

Clara arches an eyebrow, adjusting her makeshift sheet-toga. "What, you don't think he wants another eyeful after everything he's seen this week?"

You snort with laughter as you unlock your phone. "I think we've all had enough eyefuls to last a lifetime."

The screen illuminates with several notifications—two texts from David and one from an unknown number. You open David's messages first.

"Working late tonight. Don't wait up. Need some space to process everything. Talk tomorrow."

The second message, sent fifteen minutes later: "Staying at Marcus's place tonight. Flat's all yours. Use protection."

You show the messages to Clara, who reads them with a thoughtful expression. "He's really struggling with this, isn't he?"

"Yeah," you admit, feeling a twinge of guilt. "It can't be easy witnessing your flatmate transform into a woman and back again. Especially after... you know."

Clara nods, her fingers absently playing with the edge of the sheet. "The threesome."

"The threesome," you confirm, the memory still vivid despite being in a different body now.

"Should we be worried about him?" Clara asks, her professional concern evident.

"David's resilient," you say, though not without uncertainty. "He just needs time. And probably several stiff drinks with Marcus."

Clara smiles softly. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about getting dressed just yet." She tugs playfully at the sheet. "Though this toga arrangement isn't the most practical."

"I could lend you something," you offer, setting your phone down. "Though I'm not sure how my clothes would fit you."

"Or," Clara suggests, a mischievous glint in her eye, "we could just not worry about clothes at all. Since we have the place to ourselves..."

The unknown number text remains unread as Clara lets the sheet slip from her shoulders, revealing the elegant curve of her neck, the slope of her breasts. The domestic scene in your kitchen suddenly charges with renewed electricity as she stands before you, completely naked and unapologetically gorgeous in the warm kitchen lighting.

"I believe you mentioned something about dessert earlier?" she asks, stepping closer.

22:15 | Tuesday 5 August 2025 | Your Flat, Putney